Casablanca
by TJR05
Summary: Dinner and a movie is never just that when it comes to Reese and Carter.
1. Chapter 1

AN: Inspired by Kaylee, brought to light by Blacktop and persuaded by Bug Evans and SpellboundbyReese to be written. This is was the product of the silly, serious, salon talk chat that goes on at Person of Interest Forum. But as I started to write it, I found it to becoming something more than just a silly prompt. So after three days, a viewing of Casablanca and all my feels of season 1 and 2 of poi combined, I give you a Part 1 of the 2 part one shot of Carter and Reese.

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_What was it like to love him? Asked Gratitude.  
__It was like being exhumed, I answered. And Brought to life in a flash of brilliance._

_What was it like to be loved in return? Asked Joy.  
__It was like being seen after a perpetual darkness, I replied. To be Heard after a lifetime of silence._

_What was it like to lose him? Asked Sorrow.  
__There was a long pause before I responded:_

_It was like every goodbye ever said to me-said all at once._

_"Three Questions" - By Lang Leau_

**Casablanca**

**Part 1**

They never really needed the exact words when they wanted to tell each other something important. For them it was all wrapped neatly in banter, carefully placed innuendos and amazing amount of subtext that would leave the ordinary wondering if there was even anything said. But they were far from ordinary. In all the vagueness there was something so vivid and deep, some nights when she was willing to acknowledge it, when she was feeling particularly brave she let her mind wonder and feel the full impact of what was really happening between them.

So when he suggested she come over for dinner and a movie straight up after they were wrapping up a case she was surprised to say the least. Things between them have been a roller coaster ride, from his silence after the whole Rikers and Santon ordeal, to the situation with Elias' kidnapping from prison. He was less than amused when she called him about the mob boss, explaining how he ended up in the back of a van and her utter loss of rational in what she should do next. After they had taken the man to a safe house, John took her by the shoulders and asked her what she was thinking, it was the most physical contact they've ever had really. John wasn't someone who said things straight out often when it came to him, but seeing the look of concern pass in his eyes moved her. It also pissed her off.

She agreed with a bowed head and a smile, she would meet him at this place the next night for dinner and a movie assuming there wasn't a number they needed to save. She wondered all through the twenty four hours what was happening. Was John Reese dying that he had invited her to dinner? All thought but the simple one ran through her mind, which was that he just wanted to have dinner with her without any other reason but to share a meal with her. She laughed in the shower as she realized how silly she was being for over thinking a dinner. If he was a normal guy who had asked her to dinner, she wouldn't be thinking if there was an ulterior motive other than to wine, dine, and bed her. With John things were always a mystery.

But she was determined to get them back to the normal flow of things, before Rikers, Stanton, Beecher, Fusco and Stills' rotting body. She wanted to go back to late night stake outs in cars and easy banter in diners. She needed him to be himself, and she needed to get back to herself, who ever that was now. She had picked out a pair of jeans and a blouse initially, after her shower she walked over to the closet and pulled out a white dress that would cling to her body, the cap sleeves gave her arms length and kept it modest, she nodded as she opted for the dress and pulled out the black pumps to go with them. She wasn't sure what _this_ was, she never really was, but if John can ask her to dinner and a movie straight out, she can view this as she would any man asking her out and she'd dress and act accordingly.

II

Chasing after Finch and The Machine was exhausting for John, he didn't realize how tired he really was until he got back to his place and sat down on his couch. His back hurt was the first thought then came thoughts of what happens next. His mind wondered back to everything before he was reckless in that bank. Late night car rides, and coffee with Carter, her disapproving look at one of his more aggressive methods in dealing with a number, but always there was a playful gleam in her eyes. When he saw her finally after weeks of staying away, that spark was gone, what was left scared him. She was becoming a an empty shell, and it was because of him. He never thought about just how intertwined their lives would become when he had shot and killed Stills, he never thought everything he did would effect her in such a direct way. He was being naïve really. She'd only ever wanted to help him, that very first time they met, she looked at him without judgement, she asked him if he needed help, she was his first salvation and now it was his turn to bring her back to that woman.

He knew that she had awaken something in him from the very beginning, but he ignored it. How he felt had no room in this world, not after he'd wasted a change with Jessica. He didn't deserve a second, yet here he was being given a second chance not only to live trying to do good, but at a life. He had survived, but the carried the hell with him everywhere he went. Joss changed that for him, every minute spent with her felt like a soothing balm on his open wounds. Her ideals, her strength, her empathy all moved him and gave him confidence to keep going, he needed to stay alive to protect people like her.

At first it was to protect her just as she was, because the world needs people like her. Then it was the way she would smile and roll her eyes at him, her sass, her ability to call him out on his bull shit. After a while all he looked forward to was spending a couple of minutes with her in either her car or his, or grabbing a coffee with the excuse of a number to back him up. When the dreams started to come, he wasn't surprised, his mind was just rehashing what he's known but kept hidden for a while. Suddenly sleeping wasn't something he dreaded anymore, because she'd be waiting for him in the warm blankets of his mind, naked and ready to for him to show her just how much he wanted her.

Seeing her in that Alley felt like he was being shot in the gut once more, this time he really did deserve it. When Finch told him what she'd done, that she had moved Stills' body, he felt sick to his stomach that he drove her to do something like that, she had rose to his challenge, his anger, and his abandonment. Jocelyn Carter was a fighter, she'd been fighting for her existence way before he decided he needed to be in her life. It was he who needed her more than she needed him. She was capable of protecting herself. She wasn't Jess. She wasn't fragile and in need of protecting like a china doll.

Once everything with The Machine had died down, he realized that he inevitably sent her into the lion's den when he refused her offer of help. Ironically all he wanted to do was protect her from being killed and sent her guns blazing in exactly that direction. But she surprised him again when she called him and Finch for help. When he arrived at the warehouse that she was parked in his heart stopped at seeing Elias sitting in the back seat of that car with a smile on his face. The fear, the anger all drove him mad, he kept it together until they arrived at the safe house, where she insisted she spend the night. It was the first time he touched her in such a violent way.

As things slowly started to get back to normal, he came to the conclusion that he could no longer hinder her. He needed to set her free from him, and the best way to do it would be to openly tell her all the reasons that they couldn't keep going the way they were. So after they wrapped up the latest number a young girl trying to get out of a gang she had joined because of her boyfriend, he simply invited her to dinner and a movie. He'd be lying if he said he didn't enjoy the look on her face. So that's what a bashful Carter looked like.

He had prepared for this night for a while now, he realized. With anticipation he waited for her to arrive, to finally come into his space. He was sharing something so big yet so little with her.

II

She'd never been to his place, while he has to been to hers uninvited. They always met in secluded diners and under bridges. Places where they could be secretive and yet there were people around to keep them from doing something reckless, for the most part. But something had changed between them since Finch's kidnapping, and even more so after being in that room with him at Rikers.

His apartment was minimal, she even smiled as she looked around and thought this is where an ex solider would live if backed up by a billionaire. It was a lot more than a cot and bare necessities yet there was something about it's basic yet complex design that told her that Finch picked out the furniture to fit John's personality. Her eyes fluttered over to the bed briefly wondering who else slept in that bed besides him and then back to the windows that displayed the skyscrapers outlined by the twilight.

"Nice view." She said as she walked over to it. She had taken her shoes off when she came in, a habit from not wearing shoes inside her apartment.

He looked at her, bare feet, toned calves peeking out from her dress that ended just below her knee. She was a vision in white. He smiled from the kitchen where he was pouring her a glass of wine. "Thanks." he said softy.

She turned then, leaning against the windowsill, the light of the city incasing her in a glow. She smiled and finally asked what he knew she's been waiting to ask for since he asked her if she wanted to have dinner with him. "What is _this_ John?"

There was no anxiety, anger or annoyance. There was a serene calmness around them and her tone was just as running water. He picked up the two tall wide bowled wine glasses filled with a Rioja, the very same brand he had while undercover in Spain. Not all of the experiences were bad, some like the taste of this wine was one of them.

She took the offered glass saying a soft thank you, but she waited for an answer to her question. He gave her a small shrug and smiled, "it's dinner and a movie, between friends. We are _friends_ aren't we Joss?"

_Friends_. While to most friend was a general term of affection, a foundation of the structure of two people's future together, for them it was a loaded word. It meant so much more than the word itself could contain, but for now it had to hold tight. Calling each other a friend took more emotional stability than either was ready to admit. He had called her a friend after he'd been released from Rikers, he wanted to tell her more, tell her how she'd set him free in more ways than one. He wanted to specifically tell her how he couldn't have gotten out of that hell without _her_, but everything about the way they spoke was cloaked. But he knew she'd understand.

Hearing her say that she was helping a friend, made him feel even more liberated even though he was sitting handcuffed in the back of a fed car. _Friends_, they were _friends_. She did all that she did because she thought him worthy, and even though he didn't see it that way a small part of him started to believe if she can see worth in him, just maybe there was something worth fighting for other than repenting for being too late.

She watched him carefully as she took a sip, her tongue savored the taste of the wine, she tasted the different flavors and spices, and thought she could even smell the wood barrel it was aged in. It was as smooth as the way her name rolled of his tongue. She swallowed slowly and his eyes traveled down her throat. "Is that all this is?"

"What else do you want it to be?" He answered his eyes still lingering on her throat for a second longer before moving to her eyes. Carter always thought his eyes were beautiful, but in this very moment something exploded within her as she looked into all the brilliant specks in his blue eyes, they say that blue eyes don't have as many pigments as brown, and she was no artist or a master of colors but in this moment his eyes was a vibrant hues of blue, and all the pigments danced. In his eyes she saw herself swimming in the clearest water of some topical island, lost yet content.

What else did she want? She'd asked herself that question over and over, the answer now was the same and it scared her beyond words but excited her even more. She smiled at him, "what are you willing to offer?"

He chuckled then looking down at her toes that were painted a bold shade of red. He knew she kept herself neutral for work, but added bit of the fire that burned strong and bright, like her red toes or the silk blouse. His eyes traveled up her dainty ankles to her shin, the white fabric of her dress looked soft and inviting as it clung to her curves, and his eyes traveled up the v of sex to the rounds of her hip. She was beautiful, she always was. But tonight as she looked at him with expectation and a vulnerability in her eyes, he saw a different beauty. Trust.

"What ever you want, detective."

Her breath caught, but she knew better, he knew better. Everything and Anything didn't mean the same thing. She smiled at him and took another sip. This was what they needed to avoid. Why friends was the wrong term for them, what it needed to stay between them.

"Are you hungry?"

She laughed, "sure, what are we having?"

"Prepare to be amazed detective." He said as he turned to walk towards the kitchen, with her following slowly behind him.

She laughed softly, "why you gonna shoot us some dinner?"

"Already took care of that earlier," he deadpanned, to which she laughed again. She looked around his kitchen, on the island he had everything prepared for what he planned on cooking for their dinner. There was a wooden block with a few different cheese, grapes, and ham. A small basket of warm rolls with dusting of herbs. She wouldn't tell him she was impressed, but she was.

"I didn't know you cooked, but I guess I pictured you doing it." She said absently looking around the spacious kitchen with the rustic antique table which held the table wear for their dinner she assumed. The stainless steel appliances and the white cabinets all sparkling. She watched him as he seared the scallops and sautéed the onion and garlic. She watched him work and something about the way he moved and concentrated differed from his more active work. She smiled at the realization that John was cooking her dinner in his apartment. He prepared for this, and that this gesture wasn't a small one.

He looked up at her where she stood watching him, her eyes soft, "you're gonna stand there or are you going to lend a hand?"

She walked closer placing her wine glass on the island, smiling with a raised brow she said "you invited me to dinner, you expect your guest to cook her own meal?"

He raised a brow as well in challenge, "maybe my guest can learn a thing or two from me."

"Okay John, wow me with you culinary skills" She said placing both her hands on the counter to lean forward.

He mimicked her action and leaned in as well, "you have to come closer, and observe to become a master of...butter." he said holding up a stick of butter in between them.

She laughed hard and he chuckled with her, she came to stand next to him and he took her hand into his pulling her in front of him. She looked over her shoulder at him before looking down in front of her, "I need you to stir the onion, garlic and ham." He whispered softly, she nodded and took the resting wooden spatula and started to stir.

John didn't move, he couldn't really as he took in her scent, he grabbed the apron on the counter behind him, he slowly pulled her against him, a quiet gasp leaving her as he brought the strings around her then he stepped back to tie the two together. "Wouldn't want to ruin this dress, especially since it looks good on you Carter." She turned once more to look at him for a few seconds, his fingers lingering where they rested on her waist. "Thanks," was all she said, nothing to tell him to move out of her personal space, as she went back to the task he gave her.

But eventually he did let her go to check on the lamb he had in the oven before she arrived, turning it over to roast the other side. He decided that the Rioja was going to be his inspiration for the dinner he was going to cook her. A Spanish dinner with tapas, spanish cheese, and a main course of lamb shoulder with oven roasted potatoes and onions. The dinner was going to end with tarta de melocotón or a peach tart with almond meringue, and glasses of cava.

He wanted to give her a night where she could escape the reality they lived everyday, taking her to spain would've been his ideal gift but their schedule didn't really allow the time, and their relationship was a complicated one for such grand gestures, yet this was just before crossing a line that seem to further each day. If he couldn't take her spain, he'd bring spain to her. It occurred to him that at one point that what he was trying to achieve went head to head with what he said he wanted to do.

While she continued to stir the onion, garlic, and ham mixture, he stood next to her chopping up rosemary. She was so quiet that he look a look over at her only to find her smiling softly. Almost as if she could read his mind, and at times he thought that she could she said, "all of this smells really great, John."

He smiled too, "wait till you taste it."

"You seem confident that it will taste good." She said turning to face him a hand on her hip.

He stood straight as stepped closer, towering over her as he spoke, "there are things I'm confident about detective, my cooking is one of them."

"Oh yea? What else are you confident about?" she asked.

He smiled, "what else did you picture me doing?" he asked throwing back her earlier comment that she didn't think he heard.

She had picture him doing many things that she wouldn't speak of in the light of day, but it wasn't day and here she was sitting in front of him with his eyes devouring her openly. But she refuse to make the first move, she was tired of extending the hand to him, it was his turn or it wouldn't happen at all she stubbornly decided. "Wouldn't you like to know." she said with smirk before turning back to the stove.

"I would." He said also turning back to his task of mixing the rosemary and garlic in the cup of wine he'd pour. "Maybe you'll tell me later."

"Maybe."

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TBC

Please Review!


	2. Chapter 2

AN: Thank you all for the wonderful reviews, it moved and motivated me! A thanks to Pisces Chick for sharing her study of Reese with us the other night, it truly helped in writing some of the parts in this fic! This is my very first person of interest smut, so please be kind. Also I would like to apologize if I've ruined Casablanca for anyone, if I wrote this with true depth into the movie, we'd be here for weeks! Now here is part 2!

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"_Every kiss is a cursive line, every touch is a redefining phrase."_

— _Turning Page, Sleeping At Last_

**Casablanca**

**Part 2**

As she set the table there was an electric charge in the air, she knew that there was always one between them, but tonight it was so potent it made the tiny hairs on her body stand with anticipation. Everything smelled delicious, the wine was amazing. And John was even more handsome if that was possible. When he stepped up behind her to light the candles she held her breath at his closeness, she could feel the heat coming off him, she picked up her glass of wine and took a long gulp.

"Careful detective or you might just end up very drunk," he whispered into her ear, his voice like warm honey.

She thought she already was, drunk, on him. As Ella played in the back ground softly, she wondered if she'd ever had anyone do so much for her. The sheer romance of the moment made her head spin a little. She imagined herself standing in the summer rain waiting to be embraced and kissed passionately. She certainly felt drunk.

The sun was almost setting, leaving a trails of violets and orange streaks on the darkening sky outside. The loft was bathed in soft lights and the candle made it seem even more magical. She felt warm, as if she was wrapped in her favorite blanket at home, the butterflies that came alive in her stomach from his touch earlier in the kitchen refused to settle. The easy banter they were so good at came back after that moment of each cornering the other. He had pushed the basket of rolls towards her to try, when she bit into it she could taste the butter and the herbs melting on her tongue.

He'd watched her pop a few grapes into her mouth as he bit into a piece of manchego, telling her she should try it as well. There was something intense in his eyes as he held out the piece of cheese to her. She didn't know what compelled her to lean forward and take the offered morsel with her lips, but she did. Her eyes never left his, once she pulled back he cleared his throat softly, she won that round.

"Can I help with anything else?" she asked, turning to face John who stood behind a chair on the other side of the table now.

"No, come sit, I can take care of the rest." He said pulling the chair out for her. She complied, walking over towards him, whispering a thanks as she sat, he pushed her chair in and walked back towards the kitchen.

A few moments later a plate of the scallops was placed in front of her, it was plated perfectly with the golden flesh of the scallop sitting on it's shell topped with the onion, garlic, and ham sauté on top. If she didn't know that this was his apartment and hadn't seen the man prepare the meal herself, she would've thought she was in some fancy restaurant from the presentation alone.

"John this looks amazing." She said picking up her utensils.

He just smiled at her, but said nothing. She half expected some smart ass comment about his cooking, but he said nothing. Instead he watched her take her first bite. They say the way to a man's heart is through his stomach, well apparently it applies to woman because she was falling in love with the way John Reese made love to their dinner.

There was something fascinating in watching her eat, she was so graceful about the way she took small bites, and savored every bite. Even when they met sometimes in diners, she'd occasionally order something to eat and she took care of enjoying every bite. He supposed because Carter was a sentimentalist at heart and it mattered to her to live as fully as she could even through the small things.

When she finished her first course and placed her fork down, John was at her side immediately to remove the plate, he smiled at her and walk back to the kitchen. She smiled to herself as she drank some water, she needed to keep her cool. Even if she could drink Fusco under the table, being around John had certain effects on her senses.

When he set their main course it front of her, her head spun from the smell of the dish. She could smell every herb used, the slight acidic air of the wine he deglazed the pan with. Fuck John Reese, he was slaying her with every bit of himself. She shook her head at her musing.

"Something wrong?" He asked with a slight frown to his face.

She looked up at him, "you don't make it easy John, always gotta one up me."

"Did I one up you?" he asked with a playful glint, "guess you're gonna have to cook me dinner and we'll start keeping score then."

"Smart ass, should have arrested you when I had the chance." she mumbled with a smile cutting into the lamb that came apart like butter. Scratch making love to their dinner, John Reese properly fucked their dinner, because she didn't think anything tasted as good as what was in her mouth now. She might need a cigaret after this dinner.

He enjoyed every expression that passed on her face, he imagined that this is what making love to Jocelyn Carter would look like, only a thousand times better. Every movement of her mouth left him hypnotized in some strange way. She was a beautiful eater.

Carter placed her fork down and touched her stomach, she was full, she was a happy content full. Everything was portioned just right and tasted amazing, the wine bringing out the delicate under tones perfectly. This was a message for her stomach, and a spa for her soul really. She didn't even have the time to blink when the plate was cleared from under her, John returned moments later with a new wine bottle in an ice bucket along with two new fluted glasses that appeared to be chilled.

"Thought we'd jump to the cava now." he said placing the glasses down, and expertly undoing the cork. The pop had awakened her and she let out a half giggled gasp. John then went back telling her now he thought of having port, but it would be too sweet to properly go with their light dessert. She hadn't even thought of dessert, but he had. When she pictured dinner and a movie she expected take out from the corner Chinese place she passed on the way to his apartment. She was more than happy with her selection of attire she thought absently. Her eyes swept over to John who she's never seen this relaxed, his white dress shirt unbuttoned to his decollate, the sleeves rolled up to expose his arms, it was still tucked into the black pants but something about him looked just so inviting.

"This is a wine the spanish usually drink for the holidays or special occasion," he said softly raising his glass to her, "I guess we can celebrate the fact that you're in my apartment not arresting me. _Salud_!"

She rolled her eyes at him, following his act and raising her glass, "don't be too sure that won't happen. _Salud_!" She took a sip of the chilled sparkling wine, he was right this was the perfect wine after dinner. It cleared away the taste of everything an left her mouth feeling refreshed.

"You plan on handcuffing me here?" he asked with a smirk, "that could be fun."

She couldn't help the laugh that bubbled out of her, like when they were in Rikers. The man knew how to bring out her inappropriate side that was for sure. But she assumed that they were past inappropriate now that she was standing in his apartment with her 4th glass of wine. "To each his own, right?"

This time he chuckled and took another sip of the cava, he excused himself to the kitchen. John bought out the peach tart and placed it front of her, and she laughed whole heartedly. "Are you trying to have me gain 10lbs tonight? I'm gonna burst out of this dress John!"

He just grinned as he placed a spoon next to her, apparently they weren't going to bother with plates, as he dragged his chair next to hers and sat to her right at the head of the table. Hearing her laugh as much as she was tonight was both surreal and a gift. He'd seen her laugh like this with Taylor, but tonight he was the cause of her amusement. "Are you ready?"

She picked up her spoon, looking at the beautiful peach tart with the almond meringue and roasted peached on top, her mouth watered and where just minutes ago she thought she couldn't eat anymore, here she was ready to dig into the delectable dessert in front of her. "I'm ready, let's do this thing."

"Relax Joss, it's dessert not fear factor." John chuckled.

"You just wait till you see me eat this thing, it will be fear factor for you..." she mumbled as she pushed her spoon through the butter like texture of the meringue and took her first bite.

He watched her spoon in mid air, as she closed her eyes and shook her head gently back and forth. Her pink tongue peeking out to sweep over the lips to clean of any bits left there, when she opened her eyes to look at him, she grinned, "Fuck John, you've been holding out on me."

He continue to smirk as he shrugged and took his first bite. "Told you I was good."

It was now her turn to look at him, to watch him eat. She learned two things tonight, John was an amazing cook, and he had a weakness for sweets. She was smiling so much tonight that she thought her face would get stuck on that as her default setting. She set her spoon into dessert again and started to join John in devouring the sweet concoction. She told him how her mother would love this, and she'd think him a gem for being able to cook. She had been so talkative she didn't realize she reached over to wipe a bit of cream from the corner of his mouth with her thumb and then sticking it into her own mouth. But John had, and he was both mesmerized and turned on by it.

There was something natural about sitting around with Carter bear feet and glowing as they shared a whole peach cake together over shared stories of their lives lived so far. He thought that nothing else compared to the contentment he felt this moment. His biggest want was to feel normal, and here he was feeling normal while still being who he was. She could make that possible, only her. Which made what he planned on doing at the end of the night that much harder. To push her back to just an asset made sense in theory, but they were so much more now. He truly was sabotaging his own plan.

II

When they've cleared the table, Carter insisting that the least she can do is help clean up and loaded the dishes into the dishwasher, Carter excused herself into the bathroom. She looked at herself in the mirror, the lipstick she'd applied now imprinted on the wine glasses and napkin from dinner was no longer on her lips. She didn't bother with reapplying it. She placed a hand over her chest and felt her heart racing. A thought occurred to her suddenly-she never felt like this with Beecher.

Cal turned out to be a decent man, but she never felt her heart race or the butterflies in her stomach for him, she didn't burn and shiver all at once from his touch. She shook her head and chid herself to behave. Doing her business and then washing her hands she found her way to the couch, her wine glass waiting for her on the coffee table. John had disappeared, she assumed to the bathroom as well to reflect on the night. She mentally laughed at how they were acting like two people on their first date.

John finally appeared and picked up ice bucket with the left over cava and walked over to the couch putting the bucket down on the coffee table next to her wine glass. He turned the TV on.

"What are we watching?"

"Have you ever seen Casablanca?"

She pouted her lips and raised a brow, "who hasn't John? It's a classic."

"You'd be surprised." he said as he selected the movie from his vast library of movies cataloged neatly under genera, alphabetically, and year, thanks to Finch who thought of everything.

Carter wondered if this night could possibly get any more perfect as she tucked her legs under her, wine glass in hand. She felt a light buzz from the delicious selection of cava that John had picked. She was full, and this was the most fun she's had in a while. She expected him to sit a couple of feet away, the couch was big enough for six, but instead he sat close to her, his neck brushed the arm she rested on the back of the couch. She smelled his cologne, and found her heart race.

"Everyone should watch Casablanca once, it's one of the more realistic love stories on the silver screen."

"Realistic love story." He repeated as he thought about Jessica, and then his eyes wondered over to her. "Maybe, that's just a perception we have. Some people have it all, others can barely manage to hold on to what they have."

She looked at him then, "people are always changing John, it takes two to make it work. If one partner isn't willing to change with the other, if they can't grow together where does that leave them but with nostalgia of what things used to be like."

He was continuously reminded by her that even though they were about the same age, there were things that she'd experienced that he hadn't. Not really anyway. His short stint with Jessica was hardly a relationship he began to realize the more time passed and the scar from not being there for her became less pronounced.

The opening credits started and Carter smiled, there was something so simple yet elegant about movies back in the day. They had to convey so much with so little, such as the music. It reminded her of how she and John relied on the banter and the cases to have conversations. They sat in comfortable silence watching the film. Commenting occasionally about a line here or a character they found interesting.

She makes a passing comment about how Major Strasser was a jackass. They both agreed that even though Captain Renault was corrupt at least he owned up to it and was kinda funny, Carter even went as far as to say she found him kinda adorable.

"_Of all the gin joints, in all the towns, in all the world, she walks into mine_."

Carter smiled at that line, not so long ago she remember thinking that exact thing about the man sitting next to her now. Out of all the precinct he could've ended up in, he ended up in hers. How different would her life be now? She wondered about who she was now, but had John not come into her life, who would she have been then? Would she have made some of the choices she had made? Would she have been as reckless as she's been now? Probably not as extremely but she would've because like Rick she was a sentimentalist at heart.

As Rick told Sam to play it again, Carter softly sang along to "As time goes by" and John thought he'd never heard anything better. When the flash back occurs, Carter's mind starts to wonder.

It suddenly occurred to her that, maybe tonight was their night in paris. That this was his way of saying goodbye to what was happening between them before anything more could happen. He's done all of this to simply make her happy then push her away. She almost chuckled at the absurdity of how child like John's mind was sometimes. But if tonight was all they could have, she was going to make the best of it, she was going to demand it all.

"What was he like?" he suddenly asked as Ilsa explained why she didn't show up at the train station in paris, as she tired to explain what kind of man her husband Victor was.

"Who?" she asked, though she had an idea who he wanted to talk about.

"James," John said thinking of her husband, the man who knew her and had her in a way that John never would. He wondered if he was a good guy, the kind of guy that cherished the woman sitting next to him.

Carter took a sip of her wine, and nodded, "he was a good man, hard working, honest."

A better man than him was what John heard, it wasn't about him really, but he knew that she was too good for him. He wondered about James from time to time. But more so since that conversation in his car about marriage. Was she talking about him? Did that end with her in tears?

"We were young when we met, when we got married," She stated again, he turn to look at her as she shrugged, "sometimes there are places you can't follow the one you love. Sometimes they become so lost to you, the only option is to let go."

"You going to try again?" he asked suddenly, unsure of himself as Beecher was still such a fresh subject.

She didn't look at him, her eyes trained on the screen. "Maybe, I mean if Ilsa can find the love of her life during a war, I think I can manage a date some time in the future."

The next few minutes were spent in silence, each thinking of the other's answers. Yet the comfort stayed. He didn't particularly like the idea of her dating, at least not other men. While he broached the subject he didn't like the implications of her answers. But that is what you do, you let time heal you best it can then you get up and try again, he just didn't want her to try with anyone else but him.

"What about Jessica?" She asked quietly, her eyes still on the screen, but she wasn't really watching. "Will she always be _the_ woman?"

"I don't know if she ever was." He answered honestly. "The more time passes, the more I realize that we knew so little about each other. She was going to be my white picket fence. Someone I wanted to build a home with, but not enough to stay. Sometimes I wonder if I loved her enough if I would've stayed, and what kind of man I would be now. Or if I would've ran from her even if there was nothing to run to."

They hadn't talked about Jessica since Rikers, and he never got to tell her if everything he said was true. But in this moment she was moved. She was moved by the simple fact that he could talk about her, that while there was some pain, maybe a hint of regret, the anger was no longer there.

"White picket fences can be overrated." She found herself saying.

He chuckled, "yeah, it can."

Ilsa told Rick of how she _thought_ she was in love with Victor, and John looked at Carter.

"Do you think we can love more than one person?"

She looked at him, she found it amusing that this movie was his way of talking to her, his way of opening up to her finally after he'd been quiet for weeks. "I think there is a first love, then there is _the_ love."

"Which one was he?"

"The first."

"_Where I'm going, you can't follow. What I've got to do, you can't be any part of. Ilsa, I'm no good at being noble, but it doesn't take much to see that the problems of three little people don't amount to a hill of beans in this crazy world. Someday you'll understand that._"

John chuckled, "You know I think Rick did it better," he absently said his eyes still on the screen.

"What?" Carter asked.

"When I left Jessica, I didn't really break things off, I just ran away. A lot like Ilsa did, I know the circumstances are different but she didn't explain, and neither did I. When I had a chance to end it with her, I still didn't I let her think maybe there was a chance. Rick, he was honest, he told her how it was even if she didn't like it and it hurt him. He wasn't a coward."

"Wasn't he?" She found herself asking.

"Isn't it better to let go mutually than to hold on to something that probably won't ever happen?" He asked.

She shrugged, "different people, different circumstances. Maybe even if you had broken it off with her properly, she'd still be holding on to you." She paused for a moment then added, "what happened to her, wasn't your doing. Maybe if you stayed something else might have happened. Like in The Time Machine, no matter how many times he went back, he lost her over and over, because it was meant to happen."

Her words stirred something in him, 'maybe it was meant to happen' was such an easy explanation, almost an insulting one and yet he'd never let himself think of it that way. So he let go just for a little while.

"Who would you choose?" He asked her angling his body to face her completely, the movie now forgotten as Louie and Rick walk off into the fog.

The intensity with which he looked at her shook her, "I'd choose Rick every time."

"Romantic." He teased softly.

"I am, but what's life if you can't be with the one you love?" She asked softly.

"What if the one you love isn't worthy of that love?" He asked.

"You know John, it's true what they say, you have to love yourself before you can love someone else, but I think sometimes you need someone to love you before you can start to love yourself again."

Their eyes locked, she felt that buzz of energy rise around them again, she knew that he didn't think he deserved better, she could see the self loathing pour out of him at times. She didn't need to hear the words fall from his mouth to know that. She wish she could make him understand that sometimes they were used in the name of patriotism. She felt it while in service, but of course John dealt with a different kind of betrayal if Snow and Staton were any indication of what went on in those missions.

They sat facing each other, their knees brushing, one hand in his lap the other spread cross the back of the couch, his fingers brushing against the soft material of her dress. When she parted her lips, he couldn't resist grabbing the back of her neck and pulling her in for a kiss. The spark of electricity ran from his body to hers, he felt his heart flipping over doing summersaults, she tasted of cava and peaches as his tongue drove right in to taste her properly.

A cool hand landed on his cheek, as she kissed back with as much passion and fever as he did, one of his hands went to her hip to pull her onto his lap. When they finally broke apart, she pressed a kiss against his lips and rested her head against his. He thought this is where the evening would end. He would apologize and they move on and pretend like none of it happened. He'd tell her that they needed to get back to where they were before Rikers and Kara. He released her and stood, the apologize almost spilling from his lips when she spoke.

"Take me to bed, John."

When he looked down at her on that couch, she looked fragile, she looked like something that needed protecting, it occurred to him while she could protect herself, he wanted to protect her anyway for his sake. He scooped her up in his arms, she watched him quietly, her lips parted ever so slightly. Her arms went around his neck, and he felt fulfilled at that moment standing with her in his arms, she arched her neck and he met her half way claiming her lips. This one wasn't a heated kiss like the one before, this one was tender and slow. This was reassurance.

II

When he put her down on his bed gently, as he stood in front of her. Her hands reached out and pulled him close, her nimble fingers undoing his belt and pulling the shirt from his pants. He raised hand and slowly ran his fingers from her forehead down her cheek before cupping her face, he leaned forward and kissed her again. This was a slow exploration of each other. He wanted to map every inch of her with his tongue, to know every twitch of her nerves.

Her hands where on his butt pulling him closer as she arched her neck further back to deepen the kiss. Her tongue sucking on his, his fingers crushing her face to his to get as close as possible. When they broke apart for air, he pushed her back on the bed and moved on it with her incased between his knees. His lips found her neck and her hand found his hair. She closed her eyes and felt every brush of his lips against her skin, felt the warm then cooling sensation of the moisture he left behind on his trail down her neck to her chest.

Her dress felt too tight, and she was burning up. She felt his breath through the fabric, as his hands cupped her breasts. She wanted to feel his hands on her bare skin. John had other ideas as he traveled lower down her body, pressing kisses over her dress. When he reached her thighs his eyes traveled up to look at her, she'd seen him give her that look once before, when she saved his ass from that giant neo-nazi except from this angle the look was even more seductive than that night. She knew what he wanted and without words she lifted her butt of the bed so he could push her dress up past her stomach, and slowly pull her lace thong down her legs. Kissing his way down her legs, then up again.

He'd eventually take care of the dress, but for now he wanted to taste her. He wanted to taste her all night, as she danced around him with her smiles and the sway of her hip. When his lips connected with her inner thigh she let out a small gasp, he slowly moved forward before he found what he really wanted. His tongue snuck out to taste her, he closed his eyes as he let the flavor of her coat his tongue, his own breathy moan sounded foreign to him, as he plunged forward taking more.

She thought she'd died and gone to heaven, to feel him expertly move this tongue around her folds, and his teeth gently biting her clit made her see flashes of whites and blues behind her eyelids. Her hands moved aggressively into his hair, she needed him closer. The breathy sounds she made would've other wise made her think she was trying too hard to enjoy this, but there was no pretending with John. He brought out something in her, he set fire to her and then put the flames out repeatedly.

He liked the way she held on to him, he loved the sounds she made. He pushed her thighs open further to get closer, to make love to her with his tongue, letting it mimic what he intended to do to her soon. The smell of her made his mouth water, as his tongue pushed as far as it can go into her. He looked up at her, her brows drawn together as she moaned, one hand in his hair, the other on her breast. She was close, he could feel her starting to clench around him, he moved the hand on her hip to replace his tongue, entering two fingers at once, while his mouth closed over her clit to suckle it.

She came with a scream, his name spilling from her lips, as both of her hands gripped his hair, and she arched her back lifting off the bed, but his mouth and hand worked her on. She thought she saw fireworks. When she settled in, trying to close her legs to him, he smiled and pushed them open to keep the sensitivity from disappearing, licking her soft, slowly. Her eyes fluttered open and she looked at him, as he pulled his fingers from within her. She watched as he stuck the fingers into his mouth sucking them clean of her, his eyes never left hers and she thought she might have come again from just that alone.

She sat up, her hands going to his shirt. She could clearly see the bulge in his pants, but she worked slowly. He leaned forward to kiss her, to let her taste herself from his lips. His tongue working their magic in her mouth again as she tried to unbutton his shirt. His hand snuck around her back pulling at the zipper of the dress, he pulled it down slowly as he broke the kiss to make love to the skin he exposed slowly.

There was nothing frantic about how he kissed her, for him it was an exploration. A dream brought to reality to taste her skin that seem to always glow and beg to be touched. He remembered the first time he saw her, she was glowing is what he thought. At the time he thought it was because he was still drunk, but when that glow surrounded her even after he sobered and watched her from afar, he wanted to touch her, taste her to know if she felt as soft as she looked. She was as soft, and felt even more gorgeous than she looked. He pulled the dress off her slowly, wanting to relish every bit of her. Because if he never gets to have her like this again, he wanted to remember and hold on to as much as possible.

His teeth grazed her decollate, moving lower still, she pulled her arms out of the dress that now sat bunched around her hip. The lacy cream bra that did nothing to hid her from him was appreciated as he looked at her leaning back on elbows, waiting for him to pull the damn dress off already. Instead he cupped her through her bra, his hands were just perfect as his thumbs brushed against the already taut nipples. This man was driving her crazy, but she was enjoying every minute of the attention he was giving her. Her head thrown back, she felt him kiss her throat then move down to kiss the space between her breasts before taking one nipple into his mouth.

The lace felt strange and good on his tongue as he nibbled on a perfectly hardened peak. With one hand he gave her lone breast attention and with the other he unhooked her bra. When the material became limp in front of her, she finally pushed up to removed the piece of clothing blocking his lips from her. But she didn't stop there, she pushed at the shirt that stayed on his shoulders, running her hands slowly over the plains of his chest to his stomach, she cupped him through his pants. Her lips working hard to return the favor his showed her. She kissed his jaw, letting the tiny stubble already growing there move against her skin, her tongue danced on the lobe of his ear, before moving down his neck. Her fingers snuck into his pants and took him in her hand.

He felt so strong, she didn't feel silly as she should for thinking that his cock felt strong because this was John. Everything about him was strong, yet soft, he was the perfect oxymoron wrapped up in the most perfect looking man she's ever seen. From his broad shoulders toned with muscles, to his defined arms and pecks. His skin was smooth and seem to have a sun kissed glow to them. She let her mouth find all the places that made him grip her tighter, like when her mouth closed over his nipples or when she dragged her tongue across the sides of his stomach. He gently pulled away from her, grabbing the bunched up dress around her and pulled making her squeal and let out a soft laugh, then he stepped out of his pants and boxers. She didn't know when he'd taken his socks off, but she didn't care now as he stood in front of her in all his glory, and she the same lying on her back naked as the day she was born. She saw all the of the scars that marred his skin, but to her they were history, characters and made her less self conscious about her own battle wounds, the latest from Kara Stanton.

John made her feel beautiful in just the way he looked at her this very moment. She wasn't a woman who needed her ego messaged on a daily basis. She knew she was attractive, she kept herself in shape for both work and life. But the way his eyes drank her in, she felt that flame become out of control in between her legs again. She needed him, she needed to taste him. If this was their Paris, she needed to remember everything. So she opened up her arms and beckoned him to her. They could've had frantic sex, but instead they opted for the slow burn. Every kiss meant something, a word unspoken, every touch a memory for the blinding days ahead. This was Ilsa asking Rick to kiss her like it was the last time.

The tenderness in her eyes, the appreciation of his physical state all added to the things he loved about the woman now laying naked on his bed with arms wide open for him. He crawled in between her legs, his lips finding hers again. Jocelyn Carter kissed with such passion, ever kiss was a first, last, and a kiss to remember. Kissing her was like having his breath stolen and give back all at once. It was a kiss of a life time, no other would ever compare. His hands delved into her hair, The charge that ran through him when his bare skin touched was like being electrocuted only so much better and less painful. When she wrapped her legs around his waist the flipped them over so she was on top, he was pleasantly surprised, and extremely turned on.

"I know you said you have skills, but I got my own bag of tricks." She whispered with a wicked gleam in her eyes as she leaned forward to kiss him quickly, her arm going behind her to wrap around his cock that was stiff as a rock. She worked her way down again, until she was positioned in between his thighs. Her eyes never left his as she took him into her mouth. Taking all of him in, she moved back up, letting her tongue trail her lips.

"Joss..."

She'd fantasied about this moment, but hearing her name fall from his lips as her mouth was full of him was even better than anything she imagined. She moved up and down over him, his hand pulling her hair, his mouth releasing soft moans. She used one hand to hold him at the base of his cock while the other cupped his balls, ever so slowly and gently running her finger nails across them. When she felt him tug at her arms she released him watching with fascinating as his cock bounced forward. She looked him in the eyes, and straddled his hip, positioning him at her opening before sliding down slowly, her own face contorting to display her pleasure, a breathy "o" leaving her mouth as he filled her up.

The stayed still for a whole minute, their eyes locked as he laid on his back hands on her hip watching her, her hands spread across his chest. She felt his heart racing, and her own thudding away in her ears. She heard every breath that escaped him, and her own match his. She began to move, up and down then rounding her hips to ground him further into her. She closed her eyes when she felt his hands on her breasts, she threw her head back as she rode him.

"Look at me, Joss." He said so softly she almost didn't hear him. She looked at him, there she saw so much. A thousand words, a million apologies, and life. She saw life in his eyes. And he felt alive as he charged forward into her, matching her rhyme. "Come here." He said as he grabbed the back of her neck to pull her into a kiss. His tongue set the same pace as his cock, moving in and out of her. She cried out when he hit a particularly delicious spot within her.

John couldn't believe this was happening, he wondered for a moment if he was dreaming, but when he looked at her above him, her beautiful breast bouncing with her, her eyes half lidded with desire, he knew he couldn't have imagined such a beautiful image of her. He sat up then, holding the back of her neck as she wrapped her legs around him and he pushed deeper into her. His eyes demanded hers to look at him. He's never made love to any woman like this before, he's never felt as close to any woman as he did to her in this very moment. And he didn't think he'd love another woman as he did her.

His lips found her a smooth creamy shoulder to give his attention to. His name feel from her mouth in breathy moans. "John..."

She held onto to him so tight, she was afraid he'd disappear if she didn't. She felt him flip them over so she was now on her back looking up at him, he grabbed her knees and pulled her even closer, the grunt that escaped her made her blush. She's never been this vocal with anyone else. She opened her eyes to look at him moving above her. He took her hands and held them above her head as he kissed her, pounding into her with as much determination as when he was working a case, if not more.

His lips moved from her lips to her cheek, then her jaws, then just below her ear. He worked his way down to her breast and took one nipple into his mouth. She cried out again. He bit her gently and suddenly she was scream his name and seeing fire works again. He thrust into her frantically a few more time, his teeth biting down on her shoulder, he tasted the blood he drew. He licked at the bite mark and then kissed her.

She tasted the iron in his mouth, there was something so primal about him marking her. When he bit her she was still on cloud nine to really feel it, or rather the pain became a form of ecstasy. They both had so many scars both physical and emotional, but this one she'd wear with pride she realized. He'd given her a memory. She felt him press kisses to her face, first her lips, then the apples of her cheeks, then her nose to which she let lose a small giggle, then her forehead. He pulled her against him, their limbs tangling together. He held her tight, and she even tighter.

He would wake her with kisses a few hours later, that time it would be frantic with fear of the time that was running out, and she'd mark him just as he's marked her. The third time would be slower, they'd worship each other, kiss every scar and murmur soft soothing words to each other. It would be well into the night when they'd fall asleep with her pressed to his chest, safe and secure.

II

When she woke up with the sunlight shining through those big windows and a warm body next to her, she smiled yet a sadness engulfed her. She felt his arm around her tighten as she turned to face him.

"Good morning." He said softly, blinking away the sleep from his eyes.

She reached out to touch his cheek, she smiled as she studied his face, the way he looked relaxed first thing in the morning. That was the best sleep she's had in a while now. She realized early on what he tried to do for her last night, she also realized that her ending up in his bed wasn't part of what he'd planned. John wasn't that kind of a man. But she was glad that it happened, that she had this memory, saw this side of him existed. Locking away everything for the lonely nights ahead. "Morning."

He watched her eyes change over with emotions. He wondered if she regretted last night, if the reality was setting in, but he didn't see that in her eyes. What he saw was loss, she looked like she was about to lose something. He slowly took the hand on his cheek and kissed the palm of it. She was warm in so many ways, the early morning light made her skin glow like bronze, she was beautiful.

"We will always have last night." She said softly letting him know she understood what last night was about, as she sat up, holding the sheets to her chest.

When his arms tightened around her and he pressed his lips to the back of her neck, she let the tears come softly, quietly, with dignity.

The truth was he had invited her to dinner to clear the air, to put back in place that boundary between them that was eroded over time and completely broken in that interrogation room at Rikers and even more so in that hallway when he thought he'd never see her again. He reasoned that he never properly broke things off with Jessica, he left her in a way that she thought one day it would be possible for them to be together and while maybe for a while he did too, he realized it hurt her more for holding on to him. He didn't want to make the same mistakes with Carter, he couldn't make them again.

He wanted to have a night where he could have her, Joss, to himself. No case, no number, no dead boyfriend, girlfriend, crazy psychopaths, and principled mob boss to distract them or cover for them to be in each other's company. She trusted him, and he'd deliver. He would be honest and let them both down easy. What he didn't expect was to end up kissing her, to make love to her, or have her make love to him the way she did. He hadn't planned for her to be so understanding, even though he knew she would be. And now as she was letting him go with grace, he was the one that refused to let go once more.

It wouldn't be enough, it wouldn't be enough with just one night, with one memory of how she felt, how normal it was to have her be in his space, to load up the dishwasher or to carry her to bed. Having just last night wouldn't be enough for him.

"I can't live with just last night." he finally said after a long pause. "I don't want to survive, I want to live. And I can't live without you. I'm no good at being noble but I can try with you. While the problems of two people don't amount to hill of beans in this world, we can still be two beans in that hill. And while I could say a hundred things to make you go, you'll never leave me even when you do. And the truth is I'll never let you." He cupped her face as she smiled through the tears.

"We'll always have last night, but I want more."

She threw her arms around his neck and embraced him, that wall of control and strength she'd put around herself finally coming down. She felt set free by his confession. It wasn't '_I love you_' but it was. It wasn't the three magic words all women in love want to hear, it was more. It was a movie quoted expertly and perfectly to describe how amazingly bizarre they truly were. This was how the most romantic thing a man has ever done for her was invite her to watch Casablanca to break up with her emotionally.

Casablanca was a movie that would've perfectly describe them at one point, the parallels were all there. There would be numerous viewing and controversial discussions about things they didn't talk about last night. But now it was a movie that they had an alternate ending to. One where Ilsa didn't get on that plane and stayed by Rick's side, she went where he went, because there really wasn't anywhere she wouldn't follow him she had realized.

The END

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Dedicated to the lovely ladies at Person of Interest Forum, who inspired me beyond words.


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